Borrowed
by Weskette
Summary: "Your jacket is warmer than your truck..." She mumbled, staring out the window.


**Borrowed**

_Counting stars and passing cars_  
_On the interstate_  
_The end is near I feel it dear,_  
_But I am not afraid  
-A Fine Frenzy, Borrowed Time_

Andrea sighed. She was sitting in the passenger's seat of Daryl's 'new' truck. She really wished it would heat up quicker. "Your truck sucks, Daryl," she stated plainly.

He raised his eyebrows and glanced over at her. "You could always ride with the Grimes. Or Glenn and Maggie."

Andrea grimaced. "Gah. No thank you. I can't stand Queen Lori. And don't get me wrong, I love Glenn, he's a great kid, but I wouldn't be able to handle riding with Maggie in the car. She hates me. Not to mention Beth rides with them... That'd be awkward."

"Then don't insult my truck, Blondie."

"But it's freezing, Daryl."

"Give it a few minutes. It'll warm up. You know that." He glanced over at her shivering form and returned his eyes to the road.

She frowned. "Yeah, I know. I'm just cold. It is winter after all."

"My jacket's in the back seat. You can use it if ya' want," he offered. She nodded and said a word of thanks. She shifted so she was facing the back seat, up on her knees so she could reach it. The front was three full seats across, without a storage area between the driver's seat and the passenger's.

"Dammit, it's on the floor." She slipped so she was half over the seat. "And I repeat, your truck sucks." He snickered as she found hassle in retrieving the jacket. And he'd deny any accusations made towards him for looking at her ass as she struggled, even though they'd all be true. He'd never say she didn't have a nice ass, though.

She finally pulled herself back over the seat with his jacket in hand. She slipped it on, not surprised that it was too big on her. She pulled tight the leather around her frame, attempting to get comfortable. "Your jacket is warmer than your truck..." She mumbled, staring out the window.

He glanced over at her again, taking in the sight of her wrapped in his jacket. Her breath made frosty swirls on the glass of the window in which she was tracing in with one finger poking out of the warmth of the sleeve, which, of course, was in her grip tight around her hand. He reached to the controls and turned the heat up to full blast. She murmured something appreciative as a blast of warm air hit her. "I hate the winter," she stated, moving her hands infront of the source of warmth.

"And my truck?" he asked with an amused smirk.

She shrugged. "Your truck has very recently gotten on my good side. For now."

* * *

"You're okay, right?" he asked in a low, worried voice.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm fine. We should just keep driving." She didn't look at him even though he had torn his gaze away from the road to focus on her. The dead were far behind them now, the little caravan of partially broken down vehicles. They had stopped, planning to settle for the night before moving on. But then walkers appeared and destroyed those plans. She had only just made it to the truck. A close call. Too close of a call. She had nearly been bitten and for some reason he felt scared. Not of the zombies, but of the fact he could lose the woman who rode shotgun in his truck and made witty comments at him. She finally looked over at him, a deadly calm in her green-blue eyes. "I know that I'm going to die, Daryl." The sentence sent a shiver down his spine. "And in this world, it's probably going to be from a walker bite. So promise me something."

"What?" he asked hesitantly, glancing at her again. He had gotten used to seeing her in his leather jacket. She'd borrow it on the colder days. He was used to the cold compared to her. He had grown up without heat in his house in a hick town in Georgia while she was raised in a warm Florida town. She had been wearing it when they stopped earlier. He kinda liked how it always smelled like her when he got it back.

"That you'll be the one to end my life." His grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Take my gun, or yours and shoot me." She tapped the center of her forehead. "Right here." He avoided her eyes. "Promise?"

He nodded. "I promise." He switched to one hand on the steering wheel, leaning on the other. "But I ain't fuckin' gonna let you get bit."

Her eyebrows went up in surprise. "Well... I believe that. But I'm not always going to be near you. I might end up on the opposite side of camp from you or could even just a stray walker near my tent while I'm sleeping."

He frowned. "Ain't gonna happen."

She rolled her eyes. "I've come to terms with death, Daryl. Everyone needs to."

* * *

"Hey, doll, think you can drive for a while? 'M gettin' tired..." Daryl spoke, nudging her shoulder.

Her eyes opened and she stifled a yawn. "I'm tired too."

"Yeah, but you got more sleep than me. N' I'm tired."

She yawned again and raised her eyebrows. "We both would've gotten more sleep last night if it weren't for you. Or are you regretting last night?"

He snickered. "I don't regret it n' I know you don't either."

She shifted, pulling her shirt up to cover a very apparent hickey on her chest. "Get the others to pull over and I'll drive," she conceded. Daryl honked twice, the signal to stop driving. The three cars in head of them slowed to a stop. Both got out and T-Dog stuck his head out of the window in the car ahead of them.

"Why'd we stop?" he called over.

"Just switching drivers!" Andrea replied, getting in the driver's side. Once in, she honked twice again and the caravan began to move again. Daryl settled in his seat, wishing it had the ability to lean back. He fidgeted for a few minutes until she, without looking over, grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down to lay across the seat. He murmured his thanks, using her leg as a pillow. His fingers curled under her knee and he kissed the top of her thigh through her jeans. One of her hands came off the steering wheel and began to comb through his hair. He wiggled his fingers under her knee and she jumped. "Daryl! I'm ticklish!" she hissed.

He smirked. "I'm gonna hafta save that info for later." He assaulted her knee once more, very quickly, causing her to twitch.

"Daryl!" she very nearly whined.

He stopped but chuckled. "If I wasn't so damn tired..."

"Not to mention the fact that I'm driving," she added.

"I think we could get around that..." he mumbled before falling asleep.

* * *

"Calm down. We'll be back in an hour."

"I don't fucking like it," Daryl stated, arms crossed and staring at the ground like an angry child.

Andrea shook her head. "I'm going whether you like it or not," she said softly. Her arms were also crossed but she was staring at his face.

"I know," he grumbled. "I just don't want you hurt."

She smiled and put a hand under his chin. Gently, she pulled his face upward and pressed a kiss to his jawline. "I'll be back as soon as possible. Okay? It's just down the road, get supplies, and come back. I'll be fine."

He pressed his lips long and hard against hers, claiming every bit of her mouth as his own. "Be careful," he said when he finally ended the kiss. "And take my jacket." She nodded with a smile.

The entire time she was gone, he worried. He tried to escape it by sitting down and whittling more arrows. The work was too easy for him. He did it all by muscle memory. All while he did it, he was thinking about was her safety. Whether or not she'd come back with them or, if she did, he'd have to go through with the promise he had made to her.

It was two hours later when they finally returned. Michonne got out first, a frown on her face. Daryl was the first one toward the vehicle. "What happened?" And, after another moment when he didn't see his blond woman climb out, he asked gruffly, "Where's Andrea?"

"There are too many walkers where we went. We'll have to avoid it when we move on." She took notice of his second question. "Oh, she's in the back seat. She's probably getting some of the stuff we got together. She'd appreciate help, I'm sure."

Daryl went to the van and, unable to see past the dark tint of the window, opened the door. Immediatly, a box was shoved into his hands. "Take this," he was ordered by the ex-lawyer. "Give it to Lori. It's baby stuff." He nodded and listened to her, setting the box on the Grimes' car before returning to her. She was climbing out of the vehicle with a box top filled with cans. The way she was moving didn't seem right. It looked like she had hurt her arm. He scooped the objects from her grasp.

"Doll, you okay?" She looked up at him and smiled.

"Yeah. Remember when you said you weren't going to let me get bit and I said it would happen eventually?" His heart started to race. Had she been bit? "Well, you won. A walker nearly got me, but it couldn't bite through your jacket. I got a pretty bad bruise though." She pulled the sleeve up to show him a nasty purple-blue mark on her wrist.

He smirked, his entire aura changing. "Crazy girl. Ya gotta stop doubtin' me. Told ya' I wouldn't let you get bit."

* * *

**Yes, I just did that. Don't judge me. The song Crazy Girl by the Eli Young Band is one of the few country songs I listen to. I had to have him call her Crazy girl. Next is 'Silly woman' in _Does this darkness have a name?_**

**Stop. You're judging me for it. I feel it eminating from you. ;u;**

**But thank you for reading.**


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